Tag: fun

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. Originally they were 101 words only. I’m less strict about that now. They dont always finish, I just like to try and evoke a certain feeling or scene.

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Grand Marshall Gliebnar strolled onto the bridge of the Valdar Type 2 Imperial Cruiser with an air of a man that said today was the day that he would invade Earth and capture her for the glory of the Torzgar empire.  If there was any doubt on the matter, which there most certainly was not, but if there was then the dossier in his hand confirmed precisely that and today was the day that he would invade earth and capture her for the glory of the Torzgar empire.  It said it across the front.  In a rather large and shouty font.

“Commander Dren” he said hands on hips staring out into the inky blackness.  “Please confirm all stations ready and the fleet is ready for stage 1 invasion.”

Commander Dren paused and looked quite uncomfortable.  He was sweating profusely and his norbel gland was throbbing rather intensely.

“Commander?” Gliebnar shouted turning to face him.  “What is it, is there a problem?”  The thick scales on his face seemed to ripple as he ground his teeth.  He was a terrible teeth grinder.

Dren tried to speak. “I..it’s just that…”

“On come on man out with it” Gliebnar barked.

He held out a paper, his claws shaking as Gliebnar snatched it from him.  “It’s about the Humans Grand Marshall.  A paper prepared by the Office of Alien Landing and Occupation.  I think perhaps we may want to reconsider our approach.”

“Our approach?” Gliebnar snapped.  “The same approach that has worked on endless civilisations that have succumbed to the might of the mighty Torzgar empire?”  As he said this he stood a little taller, his shoulders back and his chest out.

“Well yes sire it’s just that they seem rather difficult sir.”

“Difficult? Dren I will have you know that they will succumb and surrender like the countless that have gone before and be assimilated into the empire.”

Dren backed away slightly wary of the Grand Marshall’s temper.  He has once seen him beat a man until he cried for his mother for no reason other than a request to attend his own wedding.  “Please sir” he stammered, “please just read the report.”

Gliebnar paused.  “You seem convinced Dren” he answered, “I shall take a look then” and settled into his chair and began to scan through the report.

After a short while he looked up.  “Are we sure this is right?” he asked.

“We are sir.”

“And this has been verified. A planet of hundreds of individual tribes.  All with their own leaders?”

“Yes sir.”

“And despite the significant resources the majority live in poverty?”

“Hard to believe Grand Marshall I realise, but they are in many ways little more than savages.”

Gliebnar placed the report down on his lap.

“Thank you Dens” he said rising to his feet and reaching for the comms.  “I think perhaps extermination will prove far easier…”

These things tend to be short pieces that may or may not be the beginning of something else. Originally they were 101 words only. I’m less strict about that now. They dont always finish, I just like to try and evoke a certain feeling or scene.

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Spencer stirred slowly as the cryo pod hissed and opened, his head pounding and the cabin lights causing him to reach up and cover his eyes.  He breathed deep trying to quell the nausea.  Hauling derilium ore across the galaxy was great money and the chance to see the colonies was something so few Earth born would ever experience but he’d never get used to the effects of coming out of deep sleep no matter how many times he did it.

Still squinting he checked the readout on the small display on his wrist.  Coordinates and timings checked out, he was back home.  Excited, he pulled himself from the pod, head spinning and stumbled over to the bridge, desperate to get a glimpse of the planet he had left behind nearly 150 years ago.

“What the…” he mumbled steadying himself against the back of a large chair.  He looked down at the control panel in front of him, lights blinking.

“Calista, confirm destination coordinates reached.” He said stabbing at a flashing red button.  The proximity sensors were on overload.

A flat calm voice responded.  “Coordinates for Earth orbit reached, local year is 2187.”

They had to be wrong.  “Calista please recalibrate and verify coordinates.”

“Coordinates for Earth orbit reached” she repeated.

Struggling forward he walked slowly over to the long wide window at the far end of the deck.  Where there should have been a planet all there was rock and debris as far as he could see.

“Calista where is Earth?” he asked.  There was a brief pause.

“Coordinates for Earth orbit reached” she answered.  “Records show no transmissions from Earth for 30 solar cycles.”

“Scan for local signals” he instructed.  Something must have survived whatever had happened.

Ore freighters didn’t have a crew or captain, programmed to track to their destination coordinates and only wake the solitary crew member – the engineer – in the event of significant technical difficulties.  Obviously Earth being rubble was for some reason not classed as a significant.

“No signals across any frequency detected” she answered.  “Scanning complete”

He stood and considered what to do next, his head still fuzzy from the effects of spending 70 year frozen as he tore across the galaxy.

“Calista, estimate return route to nearest Earth outpost, factor in remaining cryo reserves.”  HE knew he didn’t have enough for a full trip back to the nearest colonies but reserves should get him somewhere he could refuel and refill the cryo.

It took her longer than he had expected.  “Calista?”

“Estimates indicate that with current reserves and running STL drives at 10 percent to maximise remaning fuel it will take approximately 22 years to reach the nearest outpost at Sentauri.”

“And how much capacity have we got in cryo?  I really don’t want to be awake for 22 years with just you for company, no offence intended”

“None taken” Calista responded.  “Reserves will permit 5 years of additional deep sleep.”

“That’s it?  Five?”

“Affirmitive, Five”

Spencer sat down in the large chair and stared out into space and wondered whether the ships computer had solitaire built in…